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take-everything-you-can · 6 months

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Sugar and Spice

Thank you so much for my beautiful @babygorewhore for this mood board to go along with this blurb !

Thank you to my betas @monstxrteeth @xxhellfirebunnyxx and again my morgy ! Y'all are my biggest support frfr

And a special thank you to @saradika for making those cute dividers 😍

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Wc: 1.3K

Tw: Honestly it's pure fluff with like the slightest angst if you squint

Sugar cookies.

That's easy, right? A simple sugar cookie recipe should do.

Right?

So why were you ripping out magazine articles and flipping through cookbooks as if your life depended on it?

You knew the answer and it was that this was the first Christmas season you would spend with the Munsons. Your boyfriend had assured you that store-bought cookies were just fine, but you insisted that your homemade cookies were far better.

The only problem with that was, that you had never made cookies from scratch. Your mother burned everything she had ever tried to make, so you never got that Betty Crocker life of learning how to cook.

So here you were, scattered pages across the kitchen counter and six paper cuts deep into finding the perfect sugar Cookie recipe for you and Eddie to set out for Santa, per Wayne's request. You wanted them to be perfect. No, you needed them to be.

Why did you have to open up that big fat mouth of yours and tell them you could make them from scratch? Why?

A repetitive knock sounding through the house startled you in your search and you grabbed one of the many recipes you had written down. opting for the index card you had jotted the most simple looking recipe on, in hopes that simple meant easy. A hope that easy meant good.

Opening the door you were met with a smile, one of dimples and teasing lips.

“Hi.” You managed to get out.

“Hello, beautiful.” He pulled you into his space letting his lips crash into yours a silent ‘I missed you' that he always greeted you with.

“Are you ready to spend Christmas Eve with me?”

“ More than anything.” A small smirk etched its way to his face. Making that dimple deepen and a stutter to your pulse that makes you clench your thighs tightly together. A soft hand on your lower back and a small smack to your ass had Eddie letting out a soft laugh at your reaction.

He bit his lip with a glint in his eye telling you to grab your overnight bag.

The short drive to the store was torture having to rack your brain at every twist and turn in conversation. To act as if this was a trip you made every year. A trip to gather all the things based on your lie.

Sugar and flour, eggs and butter. Baking these cookies was plauging your thoughts and you had hoped that Eddie couldn't tell.

Eddie saw right through the fasade you had curated just to get through tonight and he was playing along like a feature in his games. A small elf that would help find the ingredients to the quest in relief of refuge from an ogre as an offering. A keebler to the trees. The end goal? His heart in your hands.

Sugar and flour, baking soda and powder. All on aisle three. A search for the dry ingredients has you biting your nails to nubs. Eddie takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips.

"You okay? " A shudder in the breath you let out.

"Wh- yes! Yeah I'm okay. Are you? Okay I mean."

" Can I tell you a secret?"

His voice gets low and he brings you in closer so his voice won't strain in whisper. " I'm nervous." Your brows bow in confusion but he sets your worries straight.

" The excited kind of nervous. I've never had someone I wanted to spend Christmas Eve with."

Your smile becomes bright and you can feel his hand squeeze in your waist as you just stand in awe.

" Come on, let's get the rest of this list so I can take you home." …. Home. His home, something he had been calling yours for a while. If you were honest with yourself anywhere he was, that was your home.

Eggs , vanilla and butter. Some confectioners sugar and a small jug of milk, the final touches to make this recipe complete.

Wayne worked late on Christmas Eve and into the early hours of Christmas day so he could have the next few days off. A tradition for him and Eddie. The day after Christmas was their day of feast. Everyone in the trailer park did a potluck style of bringing leftovers no one wanted to their neighbors and Wayne never passed up anything he was offered.

Willing yourself to breathe deeply as the ingredients littered the counter. Eddie watched for a second, leaning his tall frame against the cabinets for any signs of your lie starting to crumble. Yet there were none. An actress who aimed to win gold, there wasn't even a flicker of doubt in your eyes, no matter how much panic was happening behind them.

Sugar dusted the linoleum and flour found the floor. Eddie was even sporting a light handprint of ingredients after you gave in and let him mix the contents of the bowl for you.

He had been begging to eat some of the raw dough and knew this was his way of sneaking some here and there.

The light shining through the kitchen window had started to cast a glow of slightly pink and soft purple as you and Eddie tried to find more than one baking sheet you could place drops of the dough into. A slam to one of the cabinets as Eddie's hands gripped the countertop in front of him. His shoulders had tensed and you wanted nothing more than to relieve his pressure.

So you did just that.

You walked the few small steps to reach him and tangled your arms around his torso as your face came to rest between his shoulder blades.

“It’s okay baby, we can still make them, it's just gonna take a while longer, but we can still make more than one batch.”

“I should have known, we just … I should have just known. I'm sorry.”

The softness of his tone broke your heart a little bit in the doubts he had from only not having a pan, as if that was a disappointment you would find in him. So when a small laugh left your lips he turned to you as if to accept this defeat. A betrayal of your mind.

“You think I give a fuck about a pan eddie?”

“No, I know , it's dumb. I just wanted things to be perfect for our first Christmas Eve together.” You met his gaze and let out a shallow breath caught in the hazel shift of his demeanor when his head tilted down.

“Eddie, I have never made cookies, not even from a box.” He has a smile, soft and sweet. “Fuck I don't even think I've ever even cracked an egg before tonight.”

Before you can think of something else to say his lips meet yours. Adoration overwhelms you when his lips part and let out a content sigh.

“I know, baby.” Still trying to catch your breath you don't quite understand.

“Know what ed's?”

“ I know you've never made cookies.”

A sudden stiffness like an insect caught in a spider's web, you knew this would come back to bite you in the ass.

“Baby I've seen you almost burn your house down by just looking at the stove.” You let out a laugh, deep and eye watering and it's all Eddie can do not to throw you over his shoulder and take you to his room.

“You knew and you were gonna let me feed these to Santa and Wayne? Looks like someone is just gonna have a stocking full of coal this year.”

The oven sounds before Eddie gets to reassure you of just how good he's been this year, but the look on your face when you pull out perfectly cooked sugar cookies is hands down going to be the best present he gets this year.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #christmas with eddie munson #eddie munson xmas #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson oneshot

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ad-hawkeye · 10 months

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final review on artem's third anniversary card: infinitely better than his second anniversary card (not like that was a hard goal to achieve), but was mind numbingly boring, repetitive, and with some very odd/forced moments.

i expected a lot worse going in. but then again, my bar for lowest was second anni, so you know, i'll take what i can get. my commentary while watching can be found below :,)

time skip?? they’re already moving in and themis law firm already knows about them living together. i guess?

oh the logic for this one is. interesting. mutuals what if we fell into a large cardboard box together

so they fall in the box. with a puppet. and his shirt is caught on the box. so the only solution is to take his shirt off. ok.

okay so. he can take off the sleeves of his shirt. but not get out of the box. this is innovation in storytelling.

oh my god this isn’t even artem’s apartment, this is just a straight up house????

this card is just. extremely boring so far.

i do appreciate the focus on artem's original interests though, like movies and cooking. it was a breath of fresh air.

ok so. mc goes to sleep. after fixing artem’s puppet. thing. and then they somehow end up on the bed together where he then “takes a whiff of her hair”. mc tries to back away saying she’s uncomfortable in the position she’s in (she's like on her knees on the bed), and then artem pulls her back to sniff her again. and then smells cleaning supplies on her. “you cleaned the puppet after fixing them” OKAY?? what did i just read.

on top of this, i need to reiterate how dreadfully boring this card is

okay so. time skip of several months confirmed. i was right. also rosa never talked to artem about why he wanted to move in with her. at all. they did not discuss this. “i have never asked him why he’s suddenly in a rush to move in with me” REALLY???????

the housewarming party is admittedly very sweet. i like this part a lot.

ok so we’re back to artem NOT being bold. i guess. does that mean he goes back to being bold in 4th anniversary

i like the scene where they play a stupid game of testing each other w legal jargon, and then rosa pulls out a phone book of law firms. THATS the kinda stupid shit i want lol

rosa winds up measuring artem for some reason bc she sews things in this card. and then rosa is like hey wanna measure ME in the bathroom ;;;))))) and artem is like sure i guess. then it ends there. out of no where but i'll take rosa being the more bold one anyday.

i. hm. this was an interesting card. it’s infinitely better than second anniversary. there were no steamy scenes imo. which. thank god. but it was boring as sin, had some weird forced parts, and still not rly worth pulling for. but it. is Better than second anniversary. cheers.

#addy rambles #tot spoilers #artem wing

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pricetheghost0 · 2 years

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Tw sh, cringe

Words: 3700

Kenma x depressed reader

Your parents were like most other parents. They were nice enough every now and then but they still had their quirks.

Your dad was aloof like a cat who couldn't care less about you existing or not. He only showed that he cared when he found out the first time about your self harm.

Your mom was the type to switch things up. Occasionally she would want to hug you or make you food. Most of the time though, she would argue and put you down. She called you a bitch, a whore, a useless brat, etc. This drove you crazy when she acted nice.

On a typical Tuesday during the first week of school, you woke up and went downstairs. You were dressed and physically ready. Mentally you wish you could just stay in bed for the rest of your life. Your mother had your lunch ready and you slapped together a piece of toast and jelly.

As you ate in the car you put an earbud in to listen to (your favorite playlist). You can't stand the radio.

Your pov

I swear to God, if I have to hear "happy" by Pharrell Williams one more time, I'm gonna fucking lose it. It's so repetitive and annoying. No one is that happy. Well… unless you are on drugs… then maybe.

We finally made it. I'm a freshman which is super cringy. Most of them run around the halls as if they are happy to be in school.

I step out of the car and see the sign for Nekoma high school. I grab my stuff and head inside.

Time skip to lunch cuz I'm hungry

I sit under a tree and start listening to music so I can calm my dying social battery. It is pretty warm outside making a sweater and thigh highs seem a tad odd. Of course I switched my happy and bubbly personality on so people don't question it too much.

I had my best friend with me. She is moving soon but I knew she could get the school to think this is just my style since she is a super popular senior. bsf/n never knew why I would cover up. For all she knew, it really is my style.

I couldn't possible flat out tell her "I know we are sad you are moving away but I just wanna let you know I cut myself for fun". I know she'd feel guilty and take my blades away. That sounds like too much of a pain.

As me and bsf/n were sharing songs with each other, a guy came up to us. He seemed too cocky for me and I went back to looking at my phone.

"Hey Kuroo! Whatcha doin without kenma?" Bsf/n said standing up and hugging him.

"He wanted to be alone to play games. Something about a social battery. I wasn't really listening though." Kuroo shrugged with a sigh.

I let out a small laugh. So he's a bit like me. He seems to have more confidence though since he told his friend to leave him alone.

"Who's this? Why is she laughing at my pain?" Kuroo joked.

"This is y/n. She also talks about social batteries but she usually whispers way too quietly for me to hear. What is a social battery?" Bsf/n asked.

"If I talk to too many people in a day I get tired and lowkey wanna beat the shit outta the next person that looks at me. That's only when it dies tho." I said still not paying attention to the beanstalk in front of me.

"Did Kenma wanna punch me then?!" Kuroo asked, looking in my direction. I ignored him. My battery was dead and I was over it.

"Heyyyyy answerrrr!" Kuroo pouted like a baby. I needed a way to stop my anger. I wanted to stab him. He talks way too much and I'm not interested.

"I'll see you later bsf/n." I got up and grabbed my stuff.

"O-ok. Are you alright?" She said with a caring tone.

"Did I say something wrong?" Kuroo was worried.

"I'm fine. I just think I started early." I had to make some kinda excuse. This was good enough because kuroo wouldn't dare question me.

"Do you need anything?" Bsf/n asked while ready to give me the world.

"Not right now." I walked away and went straight to the bathroom. I locked the stall door and took out my blade. It was in a pencil case that I put back in my bag.

I rolled my sleeve up to show scabs and scars all over my upper forearm. For the people who cut their wrists… for the love of god grow up.

I sliced and made a few cat scratches which weren't good enough. I dabbed the blood away with the thinnest toilet paper you could ever find. I take a quiet deep breath. I steady the blade and swipe it.

I had forgotten this was a new blade.

Fuck.

I reached beans for the first time. It hurt like a bitch. I can't lie. It is kinda pretty as blood fills it. The cut was in the fattiest area of my forearm. This probably saved me a trip to the hospital.

My arm is still throbbing so I made the executive decision to stop before things got outta hand. I stopped the bleeding for the most part and pulled my sleeve down. After putting everything away, I flushed the toilet and washed my hands.

It was my free period and I sure as hell didn't want to talk to people so I headed up to the roof. What kid would be up there when it's this hot?

I walk up the shit ton of stairs with my 2 ton back pack. I open the door to the roof and I sit in the shade. Then I made eye contact with a cat???? Nope it's just a middle schooler who got lost.i look back down at my phone and load up subway surfers. It's an OK game. It's good for passing time while listening to music.

"Why are you here?" The kid asks quietly.

"Shouldn't I be asking that? Aren't you a middle schooler?" I asked not looking up from my game.

"WHAT? I'm not a middle schooler though." The guy said.

"Oh… sorry. I'm up here cuz my social battery died. Then this guy named kuroo came to talk to my friend and he's exaughsting." I ranted.

"He really is that's why my social battery dies so often." He said with a small laugh

"You know him?" I asked while immersed in the game.

"Yeah. He's my friend. Oh, my names-" the guy couldn't finish his sentence.

"FUCK" right before I beat my high score I lost.

"... Kenma… u good?" He finished and looked up from his phone as I smacked the wall with my arm out of pure rage.

"Well hi kenma, my name is y/n. I almost beat my high score." I said wanting to cry out of anger.

"What are you playing?" Kenma asked.

"Subway surfers. Y'know, something to pass the time." I shrugged lowkey embarrassed that I was playing a game for 9 year olds.

"What's your high score?" Kenma tilted his head.

"583,857" I said, questioning why I'm answering all his questions.

"Really? Well mines 826,291." He boasted. This lowkey pissed me off but before I knew it he spoke again. "Hey ummm… I think you hit the wall too hard. Your arm is bleeding."

"Oh shi- what the fuck." I panicked. It was like I thought he would know what happened. He did have his suspicions because a lot of people who have social batteries get roped into self harm of some kind. Your stupid panicking only proved him right.

He went into his back and grabbed a fresh bandage and jacket he usually kept for himself and handed it to me and left. He didn't want to say anything since he knew how awkward it is to talk about. He had the bad luck of Kuroo finding out. Of course, knowing kuroo, the poor guy is usually never left alone except for when they are at school when kuroo assumes it's safe.

I was shocked and knew he knew. I didn't know if I should have felt greatful or upset that he didn't say anything. I chose to be grateful since it made me realize he wouldn't tell anyone. Not to mention the fact that he probably does the same or at least used to because he had his in his bag. I made sure the area was clear and started wrapping my arm.

Kenma pov

Kuroo is probably looking for me. It's pretty sad he burnt 2 people out. He is probably coming up here now to get me to play volleyball with him.

That's when I noticed y/ns arm was bleeding. It wasn't too much blood but it would've been rough to keep it unbandaged. I knew she couldn't walk around with a bloody sweater because that would draw way too much attention. Just thinking of it makes me sick. I opened the door and low and behold I saw kuroo and bsf/n that were about to open the door. I didn't want them seeing y/n like this so I guarded the door.

I talked with the two idiots questioning if I saw you. I told them I didn't and after a little bit we walked away. I knew you would be able to wrap it up pretty quickly and move on.

Time skip to the end of school 😮‍💨

Who knows what pov this is

You finished class and saw bsf/n waiting for you.

"Hey y/nnnn…" she paused. "Isn't that Kenmas jacket? Hold on, follow me."

She grabbed my hand without me being able to answer and before I knew it we were at the gym.

"Heyyyyy bsf/nnnnn." a guy screamed and came running at us then stopped. "Wait… who's his pretty girl you have with you. Wait…" he snaps his head at Kenma. "ISN'T THAT YOUR JACKET?! YOU TRAITOR!"

"So what if it's my hoodie Yamamoto? I spilled my apple juice on her sweater." Kenma covered for me.

Both the team and bsf/n gasped. They were shocked that Kenma was nice to someone for once.

"Wait… when were you together?" Kuroo questioned.

"Stairwell when I was going to the roof" kenma covered again.

"That was right after I left." I said lowkey panicking because there were so many eyes on me and I kept feeling phantom blood flowing down my arm.

Something about them was kinda comforting. I already played volleyball in middle school even though that team sucked major ass, I still knew a lot about the game.

—--------------------------

After a few weeks I became more comfortable with the team. I could stay clean a little easier but I ended up slicing my upper thighs a lot. I run out of space a lot because I only like Styros which take up a lot of space. The team still had no clue even tho I was 99% sure Kenma knew.

I came to their games and cheered them on. Then I became their team's manager. Granted it was a tad late but it wasn't bad. Everyone welcomed me and me and Kenma grew closer. We shared games and tips for said games. We had a lot of fun but it seemed like he looked sad every now and then. Ironically, it was alway right after I cut myself. Maybe it was his intuition.

—-----------------

It was a normal day at practice. It was amazing how fast these guys could be. They slammed the ball down so hard I thought it could easily knock someone out. (Rip daichi even though it wasn't the spikes fault) I watched in awe and got water for the team. After a little bit they were practicing their spikes and sets and I was chasing balls down. I didn't mind it. It was good exercise but it did irritate my cuts a shit ton. They burned so bad it made me a bit angry.

As I was grabbing a ball I heard Kenma yell "WATCH OUT Y/N". I was a little shocked he could be this loud. I was too busy focusing on the fact that Kenma yelled to move out of the way. All of a sudden a ball smacked my thigh as hard as it could from Kuroos spike.

It hurt.

It hurt so bad.

My knees buckled from the pain and I landed on the floor. Kenma knew what just happened and ran to me. I couldn't help but cry as the whole team surrounded me. Before I knew it, Kenma sent everyone away as he yelled "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER". Everyone was shocked that he could be so aggressive. It took a second for people to leave my side. They knew he was serious with the way he was acting so they couldn't defy him.

"I know it hurts but I am not that strong so can you help me help you walk." Kenma said quietly and I nodded.

Kenma pov

I set the ball for Kuroo which I had done all of the time and of course it was perfect. All of a sudden I noticed the ball was going to hit y/n. I yelled because I knew she had to have run out of space on her arm and I knew she still harmed herself. I didn't want the ball to hit her wounds. I promised myself that if I saw her bleeding again I would talk to her about it and I didn't want that moment to come so soon. It made me nervous.

Then bam. The ball hit her tight and she ended up on the ground.

Shit shit shit shit shit. It definitely hit her where she began harming.

I ran over to her and she started crying. I ran my hands through her hair as I noticed the whole team ran over to us. I panicked because I didn't want them to see any blood that might come from her thigh so without realizing it, I yelled at them to go away. Thank God they left but now I have to worry about y/n.

Shit I can't carry her. I'm the size of a raw spaghetti noodle. There is no way I'll let anyone else see this though.

Y/n's pov

I was helped up and Kenma put his arm around me with my arm around his neck.

"I'm sorry if this is really awkward." Kenma blushed a tiny bit.

"Haha I should be the one that's embarrassed since I only got it with a spike while you guys get hit all of the time." I laughed a little.

When we reached the club room that was fairly close to where we were, Kenma sat me down on a chair and closed the door. He looked serious and I got nervous. I've never seen him like this.

"Um so I really don't know how to bring this up any easier." Kenma said as he grabbed a first aid kit from the cabinet next to him.

"What do you mean?" I tried to cover up the nervousness.

"I know about your self harm. That's why this hurt so bad." Kenma looked down.

"O-oh" my heart is now beating in my throat and I try to get up so I can leave this situation.

"I'm really sorry but you are bleeding on the floor. So unless you want to draw more attention… you might wanna wait here." Kenma said really embarrassed as he was shaming himself for looking at your thigh and for mentioning self harm at all.

"Shit… I wanna throw up. This is so awkward." You felt lowkey disgusted that he had to say anything but also that he knew about it.

Kenma, being the awkward person he is, handed you a trashcan in case you actually were going to throw up.

"I noticed since I do it too. I get a vibe and it was proven with your facial expressions and personality as well as the dead giveaway being the way you dressed. I'm really sorry this is so awkward. I don't have to wrap them up if you don't want me to since they are on your thigh." Kenma said as his emotions spiraled.

"You what?..." I was shocked by his confession about him doing the same thing as me. Kenma just nodded and showed the scars on his stomach.

"Kenma…" I said quietly while my pride flowed out in my tears.

"Yes y/n? Oh sorry I can get out" kenma started opening the door.

3rd pov???

"Can I please have a hug?" You just needed some comfort. At this point you would hug a complete stranger. You needed to calm down in a way self harm couldn't help you.

"Sure" , Kenma smiled a little and closed the door again. He walked over to you and got on his knees so he could be on your level. He gave you the 1st hug you've received in a long time. You didn't know how much you actually needed this until this moment. Of course he was careful to not get your blood all over him but he needed his hug as much as you did.

After a while he left you to bandage yourself up and clean the floor. Thank God you only bled on the club room floor since your skirt collected the rest of the blood. The problem was that since you bled on your skirt, it was now a bit shiny and crunchy. You panicked and didn't know what to do.

You slowly opened the door and saw Kenma being your little guard dog while looking at the team practicing.

"You alright now?" Kenma asked with a caring tone.

"Yea but is it noticeable I got blood on my skirt? It helps that it's black but still…" you asked not really wanting to be more of a burden. You felt like you were an attention whore at this point.

Kenma felt like it was super awkward to look at your skirt but he checked anyway because he knew his second opinion would be important.

"Um… it is kinda noticeable. Sorry." Kenma said quickly, looking away.

"Shittt" you panicked not knowing what to do.

"Here lemme see." Kenma walked into the room and closed the door again. He opened his locker and handed you an extra pair of sweatpants. You were the same height so it was the perfect idea. He also handed you a shirt to match the pants. You hadn't changed out of your uniform since it was too awkward for you to do.

He left the room and let you get changed. You walked out and joined Kenna to walk down and continue the hour left of practice.

“Y/nnnn are you ok?!?!” Yamamoto yelled.

“I’m so sorry y/n!” Kuroo apologized like I was a monarch that was going to behead him.

“I’m fine I’m fine.” I smiled.

“Wait. Why are you wearing Kenma’s clothes againnnnn.” Yamamoto pouted.

“A while ago my dog bit me really bad and it was still healing. When I got hit it opened up again. The skirt was gross so Kenna was nice enough to lend me these.” You noticed you were going to get attention anyway but for some reason, being near Kenna calms you down.

Kuroo apologized again and Yamamoto was still pouting about not being able to give you his clothes.

The team carried on like usual and you were fine. The coach made you sit out for the rest of the practice to only get water and to take notes on their weaknesses. You were good enough at analyzing that he let you help him coach the guys to be better. This low key gave you a power trip.

——————————————————————

You grew even closer to Kenna and you always have game and movie nights where you would just lie around and eat and chill. Kenmas mother is super nice and would always make you guys amazing snacks and give movie recommendations. The team was jealous but you both ignored it.

You relapsed less but it was still a problem. Kenma was worried about hurting you but he knew bringing it up every time would be hard for you. Every now and then he would bandage your arms and attempt to help you feel better. Of course since he didn’t really know what to do he would just wrap you up in blankets and give you your favorite snacks and candy.

After a few months you were super comfortable with each other. You also helped him through bad days. You would do the same things he did by wrapping him in blankets and giving him bite sized homemade apple pies. Before you knew it you two were dating. You were quiet but chaotic together. The team was half jealous and half happy about the news.

You had loads of inside jokes and that made people jealous but who cares as long as you two were happy.

Once Kenma came over to your house your dad ignored and kinda glared at Kenma. Your mother scolded you for having a guy over right after he left for the bathroom. Kenma was angry but he knew he had no power over them. Once he left the bathroom you told him not to worry since your mother got mad over everything. This made him angrier but he just hugged you instead.

————————————————————

Years later you moved out together and are now super happy. Neither of you relapsed in a long time and you were both super proud. You pursue your dream job and Kenma is a popular streamer. You lived well and had two adorable dogs. Your dog is a (your fav dog) and (another fav dog). Kenma has a calico cat that bosses the dogs around all of the time. You could never ask for more. 🥺

#haikyuu!!#depressing shit #haikyuu x reader #tw

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ryndicate · 2 years

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꘏ Meet the Writer ꘏

I go by Soryn, or Ryn, whichever you prefer! Likes/asks/comments will come from my main @darlingsanzu only mooties may call my Rynnie ;3

Short summary of me

I'm in my mid 20s, I work full time, and I am one of the most infrequently social person you'll ever meet. Despite that I am a very excitable and soft person and I love chatting about anything, but especially anime :3 My ask box is wide open!<3 also it is physically painful for me to not use some kind of smiley face :) I love them :D I want people to know I'm smiling >:) (painfully addicted to emojis and the use of 'lol' cant help myself)

THings you absolutely must note:

If we chat enough for me to give you my discord, you'll find that very often it takes me several days upwards of weeks to respond. i sweAr im not ignoring you---my social battery is just sad and recharging.

IF YOU SEE ME active on discord ((especially for hours at a time) and I'm not responding to messages, I am definitely gaming with my man. We play games together as quality time, and we're never tired of each other.

Other stuff

Watching: TR s2, KnY (Swordsmith village arc)

Watched: I had to make a list it was too long

Reading: Blue Lock, TokRev, Jujutsu Kaisen, Jigokuraku

Read: was gonna make a list but it wasn't long enough for a link. Csm is the only one I'm caught up with, and AoT and Wotakoi are the only manga I've finished lol. I did read TR but i read it too fast and didnt really retain it.

Manhwa/Webtoon: Under the Oak Tree, Isnelda, Let's play, Lore Olympus, Fly Me to the Moon, Moonrise by the Cliff, Finding Camelia (god i cant wait for next season), The Tainted Half, Lady Devil, My Dear Maid & The Losing Streak and so so many more.

Playing: sons of the forest, stardew (again again but this time with mods), project zomboid (yes again)

My Calendar<3

likes: Michael Kaiser, sugar and sweets!, vampires, purple, cats, old libraries, candles, Genma's senbon, writing, baking, pringles, binge reading/watching, thefatrat, 4am, Kakashi, obsessing with the same song for 3 days straight before looking for a new one—cycle repeat, comfort blankets, painting my nails 5 different colors, high fantasy and angst!

dislikes: Michael Kaiser, hot tea (i need my iceee), being in cars, making themes, loud storms & heavy wind, artificial banana, prunes, vanilla scents, yelling, spiders, jump scares, red/orange/yellow, cheese curds, pretzels, dresses, starwars (oop), sore throats, bright neons, repetitive noises

MY FANDOMS AND THEIR BABY GIRLS

Trigun

Vash, Knives, Wolfewood

Tokyo Revengers

Sanzu, Hanma, Chifuyu, Shinichiro, Imaushi, Mikey, Draken, Rindou, Mitsuya, Takemitchi

Soul Eater

Stein, Akane, Soul Evans

Jujutsu Kaisen

Gojo, Megumi, Sukuna, Choso, Itadori, Yuuta, Inumaki, Nanami

Jigokuraku

Gabimaru, Tenza, Chobei, Shion

My Hero Academia

Touya, Bakugou, Shinso, Izuku, Kirishima, Mirio, Natsuo, Enji, Aizawa, Iida

Naruto

Kakashi, Genma, Itachi, Shisui, Jiraiya, Obito, Yamato, Kisame, Hidan

Hunter x Hunter

Hisoka, Illumi, Ging, Uvogin, Chrollo, Phinks, Neferpitou, Knuckle

Haikyuu

Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Kita, Suna, Aran, Atsumu, Osamu, Tendou

Chainsaw Man

Kishibe, Aki, Angel Devil, Yoshida, Denji

Blue Lock

Kaiser, Oliver, Lorenzo, Ness, Noa, Kunigami, Gagamaru, Reo, Nagi, Rin, Sae, Shidou

Bleach

Daddy Kurosaki, Daddy Ishida, Gin, Ulquiorra, Renji, Kensei, Shunsui

Black Clover

Yami, Fuegoleon, Zara, Nozel

Attack on Titan

Zeke, Eren, Reiner, Porco, Jean, Conny

Honorable Mentions

Akaza, Tengen, Hantengu Clones, Kogami, Captain Obi, Thorkell, Alucard, Hector, Nishio, Kaneki

› › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › › ›

Since I will probably never going around changing the border colors on my oneshots I will leave this little homage here for colors come and gone

October - December 2022

December 2022 - February 2023

Current

#about me

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nextgenconsole · 1 year

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Hogwarts Legacy - Best PS5 to play right now [March 2023]

Hogwarts Legacy is truthfully Avalanche Software's single-player, open-world RPG that takes place in an 1800s Hogwarts valley that encompasses Hogwarts Castle, Hogsmeade, as well as the surrounding villages and more. It is the play anyone straight away wanted just after you've finished reading or watching the Harry Potter game series. You will be able to lose yourself in the ever-changing places of Hogwarts and allow Lumos to guide you into the Forbidden Forest, or take on a broomstick across the rolling hills to find your way straight from the castle to Hogsmeade; all of this and much more is quite possible with Hogwarts Legacy.

Story After creating their character, Hogwarts Legacy players are thrust into their own Wizarding World with a fantastic opening scene that reveals the game's fundamental mystery as well as introduces its principal heroes. Hogwarts Legacy players deal with the position of a brand new Hogwarts student with a strange link to an essential form of magic from the past. They are supervised by Professor Fig, who aims to assist them in figuring out the unknown surrounding their particular special competencies. In the meantime, gamers certainly need to attend classes at Hogwarts, deal with the threat of a goblin rebellion, and master a range of useful spells. Hogwarts Legacy wastes very little time acquiring fans' valuable first spells. That they include the standard Lumos for delicate darker segments and Levioso to levitate objects. While spells can be employed to great effect when fighting, they shine when used for solving puzzles. Quite possibly the most thrilling game in Hogwarts Legacy is truly trying to figure out which sorcery one needs to make use of to conquer a barrier, whether or not it's repairing a bridge damaged by Repairo, casting Alohomora to open locks, or making use of Revelio to discover hidden paths. The dungeons in the game have all kinds of puzzles that require several spells. It's therefore essential for players to be aware of all the spells they really can use. Our website is the best place to buy cheap New PS4 games.

Combat Combat is overwhelming, loaded with flashy effects for spells and fun ways to capitalize on individual weak points. Combat animations are fun, making it feel like you're in that life-or-death Marvel duel or a horrifying dispute with an elven troll. A lack of variety among enemies starts to dim the ardor after a few minutes. However, I have always enjoyed fighting and the possible stealth options that sometimes let me stay away from the fight with a little invisibility potion on my flank. Hurry up, cheap PS4 racing games are on the market. As previously mentioned, Hogwarts Legacy is a big video game jam-packed with lots of things to do. While this is an issue in online gaming titles, Hogwarts's wide entire world of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts Castle are generally full of exciting games, such as mysteries, that, though repetitive, manage to be exciting and enjoyable because they are bite-sized. They concentrate on bringing you deeper into the world and will make you feel like a master of sorcery and magic. Most importantly, the prizes associated with these puzzles aren't a mere collection because they always have a gameplay element. A few examples of prizes for completing puzzles are improved storage for equipment, ornaments, the latest costumes, and, yes, additionally, the ability to earn XP. The most crucial aspect of the overall experience of playing the game mechanics in Hogwarts Legacy is the player's newfound freedom. Honorable whenever a fight turns out to be tiring You can switch the tempo by engaging in a puzzle, searching for some beasts, decorating your Room of Requirement, or learning the latest spell. You might be getting bored with a certain aspect of the game; you can at any point try something else. The exponential liberty that is available with Hogwarts Legacy, together with its numerous levels of gameplay, is breathtaking and authentically habit-forming.

Characters There's a vibrant collection of characters you will meet while playing in Hogwarts Legacy, which is all adorable and convincing because of their great execution and artwork. Certain characters have bigger characters than others, but you'll have the chance to come into contact with them all and roleplay the replies to create a relationship with anyone you'd like. The houses each have their collection of cool college students that help to make Hogwarts Legacy feel like a legit class.

Bottom Line Hogwarts Legacy is most likely the game title Harry Potter fans have dreamt of since the first novel turned out to be published. This puts anyone firmly in the position of a student and turns you loose to obtain your residency within the wizarding world. However, the biggest problem is that it can feel like you're in seclusion.

#hogwarts legacy #avalanche software #harry potter

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blackwoolncrown · 4 years

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”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

not

fucking

talk

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

#acab

5K notes · View notes

cryptiql · 3 years

Text

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Pendent.

Written for a very lovely, very patient anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Bokuto/Reader (Haikyuu!!).

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: F. Reader, Toxic Relationships, Co-Dependency, Mention of Injury, Threats of Violence, Victim-Blaming.

[Part Two]

You were better, when you were on your own.

It might’ve been because you were so used to being alone. You’d never been one for social circles, the idea of spending time with people you barely liked for any longer than you deemed acceptable, and with how often your parents moved, how many schools you’d been through, your relationships were bound to be short-lived, if they ever formed at all. You didn’t hate it. You should’ve, you had every reason to, but you didn’t. You were good with impermanence, superficial flare that would never have time to die out. You were good with what you were used to. You were better, when you got to work within the barriers you’d already grown fond of.

That might’ve been why Bokuto felt like such a dead weight. You’d had boyfriends before, both short-term flings and partners persistent enough to try to make it long-distance, but you couldn’t say any of them had care quite as strongly as Bokuto had, none of them had taken as much effort to keep happy as Bokuto had. He didn’t just want your affection. He needed your time, too, your loyalty, your attention, all the things you weren’t sure you wanted to give him, just yet. If you’d been a better person, you might’ve tried to give him what he wanted, attempted to think of him as a companion rather than an unending list of repetitive tasks, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to be. You just didn’t work well with Bokuto. That was the problem, really – the two of you just did belong together.

Well, that and he was fucking crazy, obviously, but you were beginning to think you might’ve been the only one who noticed.

Konoha certainly didn’t, at least. If he had, he wouldn’t be so aggressive, his arms crossed as he kept you trapped in an isolated corner of the courtyard, the school day over and most students long-since gone. He was standing too close, his chest nearly touching yours, but the rest of the team wasn’t any better, mingling around you in a loose half-circle. They didn’t want to be as straight-forward as Konoha, clearly. They didn’t want to live with the guilt. When they walked away from this, and they would walk away from this, they wanted to be able to minimize their role, mark it down as an act of necessity. They didn’t want to have to remember you, and you could only hope they wouldn’t give you a reason to remember them.

But, if this was going to be anything like the first time they confronted you, you doubted you’d get that lucky.

In his defense, Konoha was blunt. If he planned on wasting your time, he didn’t seem to want to waste any more of it than he absolutely had to. “We had a deal.”

It was your turn to cross your arms, now, to scowl. You weren’t as imposing as they were, not on your own, but you’d like to think you could’ve stood your ground. “It wasn’t a deal,” You started, slowly, keeping your tone calm. This wouldn’t be any easier if they thought you were as irrational as their captain. “You asked me for a something, and I gave it to you. I did you a favor. I don’t owe you anything, and I certainly don’t have to stand around being yelled at by the person I tried to help.”

Konoha opened his mouth again, his eyes already narrowed and his lips pulled into a sharp scowl, but another boy stepped forward before he could get anything out, his expression slightly more passive, albeit still concerned. It wasn’t an improvement. If anything, the genuine worry written across his face only made him easier to villainize. He was worried about Bokuto, not you. This was about Bokuto. Your feelings hardly warranted a passing thought.

“What Akinori’s trying to say,” Komi started, his name resurfacing from the dozens of hours you’d spent watching their drills, attending their practice matches, melting into Bokuto’s side after he guilted you into eating lunch with his team, rather than the other girls you were still trying to impress. If you’d been any more emotional, you could’ve hated him for it, loathed him by association. It was almost a shame that you weren’t. “Is that we just think you were a little hasty. I mean, I know we put you up to it, but…” He trailed off, purposefully, clearly hoping you’d be nice enough to cut him off. Again, it was a shame that you weren’t, and Komi went on with a sigh. “We just think the two of you made a good pair. There’s no reason to go and ruin that just because he found out.”

Your head felt fuzzy. You wanted to sit down. It was a difficult sort of discomfort, disorienting and instantaneous, but you didn’t let yourself linger on it. If you did that, you’d have to explain yourself, make your argument more sympathetic than logical. You’d have to tell them about the arguments, the way he’d kissed you, the bruises on your arm that still hadn’t faded despite your dutiful avoidance. You’d have to admit there were bruises at all, and…

That wasn’t going to happen. You already knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“Cut the shit.” It took you a moment to notice Konoha was talking, turned towards his teammates and away from you. A few months ago, you might’ve taken it as an insult, but that might’ve been Bokuto’s one silver lining – you got used to being pushed into the background, when he was around. Hell, even when he wasn’t, sometimes. “He won’t play. He hasn’t come to school in a week. He can barely get out of bed. The poor guy’s a fucking wreck.” There was a pause, something similar to a groan. He didn’t have to tell you it was your fault, not when you could practically hear him thinking it, whether or not his lips moved. “It’s sad. He’s fucking miserable. If you saw it, you’d know what I mean.”

“That’s not my problem.” It wasn’t. Bokuto could’ve hurt you. For a moment, he’d looked like he wanted to hurt you. That wasn’t something you’d forgive with a few tears and a little sulking. “I’m not responsible for him. I don’t want to be responsible for him, and I never have. If you need a babysitter, you’re going to have to look somewhere else.”

“It’ll only be for a few more months.” Like always, Washio was calm, composed, cutting in before Konoha could provide a decent rebuttal. “Just until graduation. He’ll probably be over it, by then, and you won’t have to worry about any of us.”

Until the next moody third-year decides he wants a pick-me-up, too.

“I’m not interested.” You let yourself scoff, look of to the side, pretend you had better places to be. You did have better places to be. Anywhere would be better than this, as long as it meant you didn’t have to think about him. As long as it meant you didn’t have to think about Bokuto ever again, you’d do just about anything. “You saw the way he acted, I couldn’t look at someone else without having to worry about whether or not he’d lose his shit. I wasn’t happy. Fuck, I was a second away from losing my shit. You can’t ask me to go back to that just so you can win at... what? Volleyball?.” You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stop. You didn’t want to talk about this. If you were going to spill your guts to anyone, it wasn’t going to be a dozen teenage boys who thought the only way to make their dear captain happy was to torture you, intentionally or otherwise. “If it’s only a few months, then the rest of you can wait it out. This isn’t my burden. It’s not my problem, and I don’t care enough to pretend it is.”

You didn’t want to hear his response. You didn’t want a part of this fight. You tried to walk away, to push past him, but Konoha only stiffened, catching you by the arm before you could take a full step. You flinched, going rigid as soon as you felt his fist wrap around your wrist, but if he noticed the way you drew back, if he heard the soft, panicked noise that slipped through your parted lips, he didn’t bother apologizing. If anything, into only seemed to inflate his ego further, to make him even more self-righteous. Like he was the caring friend, and you were the stone-cold bitch who was finally starting to see the weight of the situation. Like he was the one in the right. You couldn’t blame him, on that front. No one would be willing to go this far unless they really believed their own bullshit.

“I don’t think you understand.” He was speaking slowly, now. If he hadn’t made it obvious he was willing to hit back, you might’ve been tempted to smack him. “We’re not asking.”

Oh. Right. That changed things.

It was all you could do not to let your voice shake, as you forced yourself to spit something out. “And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

To his credit, Konoha didn’t try to make any idle threats. No, not right now, not when he was so determined to make himself the good guy. Not when it was already clear he’d convinced himself he’d do whatever he had to, as long as it was for Bokuto’s sake. “Bokuto needs this,” He said, instead, like it was all the explanation you could need. “Go back to him on your own. It’ll be easier, if you do.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you tore your eyes away from Konoha, scanning over the other athletes instead. You weren’t sure to look for, support or regret or just enough guilt to draw one or the other out, but you barely had a chance to look before your attention was drawn to a familiar face – Akaashi, standing at the edge of the group, eyes sheepishly focused on the ground. He’d been the first one you talked to, when you first transferred halfway through the year, the first person to offer to walk you home and to invite you to a game and to smile sympathetically, whenever you asked how long your ‘arrangement’ was supposed to last. You didn’t make friends, but if you did, you would’ve counted Akaashi as one. You tried not to get attached to people, but if you were any weaker, you’d be attached to Akaashi. He was a nice guy, despite the company he kept. You trusted him. Or, you would’ve liked to, at least. You could’ve, if you’d trusted yourself to.

You must’ve been staring for a second too long. By the time you thought to say something, he was already glancing up, consciously looking past you. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought he was embarrassed. Something near guilt, but not quite there. Empathy pulled in two different directions, but he’d already chosen one side over the other. “I think it would be… better, if you apologized to Bokuto.” He was talking to you. That, you could be thankful for. At least he was talking to you, rather than whatever enemy the rest of his team must’ve morphed you into before deciding to go through with their little confrontation. “He loves you. You should’ve heard the way he sounded, after he found out.” He faltered, for a moment, but the display of vulnerability was short-lived. “If nothing else, he really does love you.”

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. It shouldn’t have, you were sure of that.

That didn’t mean you could stop it from hurting, though.

You didn’t believe them. You weren’t convinced. You wanted to keep going, to try to talk them down, to do anything but roll over and throw yourself into the arms of their psychopathic captain, but suddenly, your throat felt dry, and it was all you could do to stay on your feet. You felt small, smaller than you had a minute ago. You felt vulnerable, even if you knew there was nothing they could do here, on school-grounds, where any passing teacher or student could see. You didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want to do this, but as you forced yourself to notice Akaashi’s careful aversion, how tightly Konoha was holding you…

You realized you might not have a choice, either way.

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genshintreats · 3 years

Note

if you're comfortable with it, would you mind writing for a self-aware Thoma? one where he knows he's within the game if you don't mind (^-^)

..WHILE YOU'RE AWAY.

..characters included: thoma.

..synopsis: a self-aware thoma waits 'patiently' for his s/o.

..word count: 556

..pronouns: they/them! gender neutral reader.

..warnings: brief inazuma archon quest spoilers, maybe?

..treats' thoughts: this was really interesting to think about! thank u for requesting and i hope this suffices. apologies if it seems a little short! <3

thoma didn't understand the vision hunt decree placed over inazuma's islands. it wasn't that he didn't understand the act, nor the motive - the raiden shogun had done an amazing job of making that clear. the concept thoma failed to understand was whether it was necessary.

trapped in the komore teahouse, thoma was lost in thought, eyes wondering mindlessly around the various pieces of furniture ayaka had insisted were needed. being put on 'house arrest' (or teahouse arrest, as ayaka liked to put it) was slowly becoming one of the worst experiences of the blonde's life. he often didn't have time to consider topics such as these, nor did he have any interest in them, but thoma had found a thought that seemed to be recurring often now that he had nothing else occupying his empty mind:

the vision hunt decree was incredibly stupid.

it wasn't necessary. how vision-holders affected their god's 'eternity' didn't click with him.

although, he'd found recently a lot of this world's logic didn't click with him. not anymore, anyway; it seemed as soon as thoma had come to terms with the whole 'being in a game' thing, everything had gotten a whole lot more confusing.

"thoomaa~!"

a familiar voice calls him from his thoughts, and thoma almost knocks himself back down while getting up. he finds you at the teahouse's entrance with a wide grin.

"y/n! long time, no see!" he'd announce to the entire room. his sentence wasn't entirely true, you had pointed out. although time in your world was different to his, it'd only been a day or so here. "hm, i guess. it feels like forever, though!" the male would roll his eyes, taking his hand and leading you towards the room where he was seated earlier. "come, tell me everything i've missed!"

you giggled, taking his outstretched hand and walking after the other.

although his time with you always seemed quick - either he was having too much fun or it always happened to cut short, he wasn’t sure - today’s talk seemed to run even quicker.

“well, i suppose i should be off soon.” you’d begin, pushing to sit up straight from where you lay beside the other. as much as you didn’t want to leave, as much as you wanted to stay here and talk with your lover for (a nice kind of) eternity, your duties in other areas awaited. thoma was aware of this, well aware.

“must you..?” he’d pout, half of him wanting to tug you back to the ground where he remained, seemingly lifeless if not for the slow rising of his chest.

“you know how it is, dear.” leaving those last words in the air, you made your way to the open doorway metres away. “i’ll be back soon enough, after all.” you’d remind him, a tiny smile on your features.

bidding his goodbyes, thoma’s eyes found the roof of the teahouse once more. it seemed repetitive; this cycle of waiting until you arrive, just to start waiting again. sometimes, it seemed as if it was worthless, as if maybe he should just walk out of the teahouse’s confinements, avoid the decree all together or just play along with it.

it was a thought thoma didn’t stick to; not for a while, anyway. he had better things to wait on.

..... requests are currently open! feel free to send something in!

#treats.requested!#treats.fic!#treats.thoma!#tags 4 reach:#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #thoma x reader

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tsukishumai · 4 years

Text

Your First Fight - Akaashi, Kenma, Oikawa, Kageyama (Setter Squad)

A/N - This was for anon, I’m so sorry, I’m not sure what the heck happened to this post >-< but it’s back, and I fixed the links on the other posts as well!

Ace Edition

Word Count: 2.8k T-T

I may or may not have gotten carried away with this one (✿◠‿◠) Buckle up, and I hope u enjoy! ( ˘ ³˘)

AKAASHI –

You understand why Akaashi wanted to keep your relationship secret. Really, you did. You could already imagine the barrage of overbearing comments, and the teasing that was sure to be a distraction during practice. With Nationals just around the corner, this was the last thing you both needed.

Being the manager of the Fukurodani Volleyball Club, you know better than most just how rowdy the group could actually be. Bokuto may be the loudest one of the bunch, but all the others can be just as provoking.

And to be honest, the sneaking around was kind of hot. You can’t deny you got butterflies every time Akaashi would pull you into the equipment room for a quick make out session, or when he would give your thigh a secret squeeze under the lunch table surrounded by your friends.

But it’s been months now, and frankly, you were kind of getting tired of it. Sure, it may be slightly more convenient for the both of you, but some days you just want to hold your boyfriend’s hand down the hall without having to look over your shoulder.

You’ve only brought it up to Akaashi once before, but he brushed it off by saying it wasn’t the right time, and you were discouraged to try ever since.

You really weren’t planning to bring it up at the Tokyo Representative Playoffs… you really didn’t. But Konoha’s girlfriend showed up to cheer him on, looking so happy and proud in the stands, you couldn’t fight the tinge of envy that started to take over your body.

Akaashi was observant, and he knew you better than anyone. He could see you stealing glances into the stands, could see the tension in your shoulders whenever Konoha’s girlfriend yelled out cheers for him.

He couldn’t stop himself from following you after you told Yukie you were just going to the restroom.

“No good luck kiss?” he called out once the both of you were a safe distance from the team.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want anyone to see,” you said bitterly, not stopping for Akaashi.

Akaashi frowned. “Y/N, you know that’s not true.”

“Well, why else wouldn’t you want to tell anyone about us?” you asked, you finally stopped walking, turning around to give him a hard look.

Akaashi groaned in frustration. “Do we really have to talk about this right here? Right now? I told you, it’s just easier this way.”

You scoffed, and Akaashi hated the sound. “Sorry our relationship is such an inconvenience for you.” You didn’t give him a chance to reply, quickly entering the women’s bathroom, faintly hearing the sound of Bokuto calling your boyfriend’s name behind you.

Akaashi didn’t blame you for the loss against Itachiyama, but he definitely blamed himself.

“Have you seen Y/N?” he asked Bokuto after the game, but the ace just shrugged, too upset about the loss to really care. The whole team had all gathered their things, ready to make their way out of the gym and you still were nowhere to be found.

Akaashi’s worries were relieved, but quickly replaced with new ones when Bokuto spotted you down the hall, cornered by someone wearing a Nohebi uniform.

“So tell me, do you have you a boyfriend?” Akaashi heard him ask, and you finally noticed the team approach you. The evil gleam in your eye didn’t escape Akaashi’s attention.

“No, actually. I don’t.”

It was one thing for you to deny it to your teammates, but to other men? Akaashi shouldn’t be mad that those were the words that came out of your mouth; it was his own fault for putting you in the situation in the first place. He knows you’re just doing what he told you to.

But he was furious, and there was nothing that could have stopped him from grabbing you by the elbow, turning you away from the dirty little snake that dared to talk to you, and crashing his lips onto yours.

You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting from Akaashi, but it definitely wasn’t this. Though, you weren’t complaining, returning his kiss with equal fervor, ignoring the uncomfortable cough from the Nohebi player, and the gasps and shocked exclamations from your teammates.

All you could focus on when he pulled away was Akaashi, blue eyes staring straight into your soul, the next words tumbling out of his mouth was all you’ve wanted to hear for months.

“You’re mine. I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

KENMA –

You’ve been sitting in the same spot on Kenma’s bed for about an hour now. The room was filled with only the sounds emanating from the TV, and your boyfriend’s fingers tapping on the buttons of his controller.

Kenma always did like falling into a hole whenever he bought a new game; you’ve known this about him since you were kids. It wasn’t something you ever really minded, nor did you think it was something you wanted to change. It was a part of him that you simply accepted.

Normally, you were content with reading a book while he played, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence, getting lost in different worlds. You both respected each other’s hobbies, and the fact that you could do them together in the same room worked out so perfectly.

However, you finished your book faster than you anticipated, and in your shortsightedness, you failed to bring with you a second book. You tried to read webtoons online, but the light from your phone began to strain your eyes.

“Kenma,” you whined as boredom got the best of you, and the blonde boy didn’t bother to respond, “I’m hungry. Can’t we get something to eat?”

“After,” he grunted, though there were no specifications to when ‘After’ would be.

You sighed, getting up from your spot on the bed to tinker with his things. You walk around his room, running your fingers along the books lined on his shelf, picking up frames that contained happy memories of his life.

You hear your phone ding, signaling a message and you turned to make your way back to the bed.

“Hey!” Kenma exclaimed suddenly, making you jump, “Could you not walk in front of the TV? I just died because of you!”

You stared at him in shock for a second. You had never heard him raise his voice before “Excuse me? So what, it’s just a stupid game.”

“It’s not a stupid game,” Kenma grumbled, his voice back to his usual soft tone, but still held a slight tinge of anger. “You know I’ve been waiting for this to be released. Can’t you just read your book and be quiet like you usually do?”

Kenma immediately knew those were the wrong words to say, regretting the way you face turned into a pout. He watched you begin to gather your things, a slight panic rising in his chest when he realizes you’re trying to leave. “You know what, let me just leave you alone, since clearly my company isn’t wanted –“

You were cut off by Kenma getting up from his spot, opening the bottom drawer of his TV stand to rummage through it. You eyed him curiously until he finally found what he was looking for; pulling out another controller that he connected to the gaming console.

He quietly took your hand, pulling you down to sit on the floor with him. You sat cross legged and confused, wondering what he was doing until he handed you the controller. You stared at it in your lap, a small smile spreading on your face at his silent apology.

He started the game on easy mode, giving you a quick rundown on the basic controls.

“I’ll order us some pizza,” he said quietly, making you give him a soft peck on the cheek.

“Pizza sounds good.”

OIKAWA –

The booming sound of Oikawa’s serves was something that will never cease to amaze you.

Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile your Oikawa Toru – the one that hides behind your hair during scary movies, and asks you to kill the spiders for him – with Aoba Johsai’s Oikawa Toru. To you, they were just two completely different people.

But when you were watching him practice like this, raw power coming from his usually gentle hands, you can’t help but stare at him in awe.

You don’t usually stay this late to watch him practice; on a normal day, your club activities would end at the same time and Oikawa would walk you home, but on days like today where he felt he needed the extra practice, you left him in the care of Iwaizumi.

You were a little surprised, however, when you found Iwaizumi waiting for you at your club room, claiming he really needed to get his part of his group project done by tonight, and if you could please stay and make sure your boyfriend doesn’t kill himself.

How could you say no?

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times Oikawa practiced his serve, the repetitive sound of the balls bouncing and his grunting becoming a sort of hypnotic rhythm for you. Before you knew it, the sun had BEEN down, and the moon had taken its place in the night sky.

You begin to notice the telltale signs of exhaustion, Oikawa struggling to catch his breath, chest heaving up and down, his form beginning to look sloppy.

“Alright,” you say, jumping down from your spot on the bench, “It’s time to go home.”

“One more.”

“Tsk,” you clicked your tongue, walking around collecting the balls, “It’s been hours, Toru. Rest is also a part of training, you know.”

He ignored you, grabbing another ball from the cart, but you just started taking down the volleyball net.

“What the hell are you doing? I said one more!” “And I said it’s time to go home!”

The ear-splitting sound of the volleyball slamming the floor cut through the gym, leaving you frozen in place. “You wouldn’t understand! You may be satisfied with doing the bare minimum for your practices, but my serves have to be perfect! I have to be perfect!” Oikawa’s voice echoed, glaring at you with red eyes, frustration evident on his face.

You didn’t say anything. You stared at him for a moment, then turned around and began the process of closing the gym. Oikawa also chose to stay silent, brown eyes trained on the floor as he gathered his belongings, silently following you once you turned off the lights and locked the door.

The walk home was quiet; the lack of a reaction on your part weighing more heavily on Oikawa than he expected. He snuck a glance at you, but you kept your head forward, steel faced and neutral.

Each step he took was more agonizing than the last, knowing he shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. Your house was beginning to come into view, and he couldn’t leave the night like this.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and your sharp inhale let him know that you heard him.

“I know.”

“I’m exhausted...” and you know he wasn’t just talking about volleyball.

You finally faced him, and gently grabbed his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders as you snaked an arm around his middle. He felt all the tension his body melt away, half expecting to find it puddled around his feet.

“I know,” you said, “But if you ever talk to me like that again, you’re getting a flying fist to the face.”

Oikawa laughed, drawing one out from your own mouth. He placed a kiss on your temple, and gave you full permission to cut his head off if he ever lashed out at you again. He always appreciated how he never had to tell you anything… you always just knew.

KAGEYAMA –

Kageyama had a pretty good weekend, if you asked him.

He woke up early on Saturday morning to go for a run, then got home and had pork curry for lunch. He figures it’s been a while since he’s brushed up on his basic skills, so he went to the local gym and practiced some drills. On Sunday, he was dragged by Hinata to a study group with Yachi, and admittedly gotten more homework done there than he would have on his own.

It was a nice, productive weekend. He entered his Monday with this positive vibe following him around, even morning practice went by smoothly.

He went about his usual routine of waiting for you by the school gates so he could walk you to class. He only waited about ten minutes until you came into view, and Kageyama subconsciously straightened his posture. He tried to push down the little tickle at the pit of his belly when you made eye contact, not wanting to admit he was excited to see you.

“Good morning,” he said as soon as you approached, but his entire mood completely shifted downward when you simply walked passed him.

Where was his usual ‘Good morning, Tobio-kun!’? Why didn’t you stop to give him his morning peck on the cheek? Why didn’t you let him carry your bag for you on the way to class?

Did he do something wrong?

He was so confused, questions running through his head as he simply trailed after you silently.

“Is everything alright?” He tried to ask once you reached your class, but you just gave him a stern look, turning away from him to enter your classroom and take your seat. He was left there looking like an idiot.

He couldn’t focus in class, trying to wrack his brain on why you could possibly be upset. Did he forget an anniversary? Doubtful, you’ve only just started dating. Were you on your period? Kageyama shook his head. Even he knew that would literally be the worst question to ask.

The bell rang to signal the start of lunch, and Kageyama hurriedly gathered his things so he can go find you.

He didn’t have to look very far, though, because when he exited his classroom, he spotted you down the hall.

The second you saw him, you marched your way over; the dark aura you were giving off had made everyone steer clear of you.

Kageyama gulped, wanting to run away before he remembered that he also wanted to talk to you.

“Y/N –“ “You know, I was going to ignore you the whole day, but seeing you this morning just really pissed me off, and unlike you, I actually can’t stand not talking to you.”

Kageyama blinked, happy to hear your voice, but confused at the words you were saying. “Unlike me? What do you mean?”

You crossed your arms and huffed. “Where the hell were you all weekend?”

Again, Kageyama blinked stupidly. “What do you mean? I was home.”

This seemed like the wrong answer, because now your hands moved to your hips, and for some reason, you were ten times more intimidating like that. “So? You never thought to shoot me a text? Or give me a call?”

“Was I supposed to?” Kageyama asked, and the genuine curiosity in his voice made you face palm.

“Did you not want to?” You asked, though there was no hurt behind the question.

“I did.” “So why didn’t you?”

Kageyama thought about it for a moment. “I went to the gym instead.”

You let out a groan of frustration. Honestly, you should have known. It took you three tries before Kageyama even realized you were confessing to him. It took him even longer to realize that he actually had to tell you he liked you back, and that you had no idea that him buying you yogurt meant he was asking you out.

“Tobio-kun,” you said patiently, “If you’re thinking of me, you should text me or call me to let me know.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Even if I have nothing interesting to say?”

You nodded, looping your arm through his and starting your walk to the cafeteria. “Even then. I just want to hear from you.”

Kageyama nodded his head in understanding. “Okay. That’s good to know.”

Your phone never stopped blowing up after that conversation. RIP your notifications.

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bungeenomin · 3 years

Text

Let Them Hear- Liu Yangyang

Genre: Hard dom!yangyang x reader, smut

Word count: 976

Summary: Yangyang never thought he would get jealous of his baby talking to his best friends, yet here he is, making sure you prove to them that you’re all his.

Warnings: smut, jealousy, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), degradation, choking, dirty talk, spanking, dominance

A/N: Feel free to send me requests, asks and leave me feed back!

Main masterlist

Yangyang honestly hadn’t even considered the possibility of him getting jealous when he asked you over to his dorm to hang out with him and the ‘00 liners. That was until he is sat here, clenching his fists, burning holes into Shotaro’s back as he plays Mario Kart with you. Yeah, Yangyang knows it’s probably nothing. He trusts you and Shotaro at that, but he can’t help the jealousy he feels when he see’s you talking to other guys.

“Taro you’re cheating!” you squeal, shoving him playfully as both of you sit with your eyes glued to the screen.

“It’s Mario Kart i can’t cheat, you’re just shit” he teases, focusing as much as he can on the Nintendo Switch.

“Hah” you shout, standing in front of Shotaro, blocking his view of the television.

“Now look who’s cheating” he shouts, trying to push you out of his way.

Shotaro simply placing his hand on your side was enough to break Yangyang, even if it was to shove you out of his way.

Yangyang excuses himself from his conversation with Jaemin and Donghyuck before approaching you and Shotaro at the TV.

“Y/N, let’s talk” he states sternly.

“Baby” you respond, not picking up on Yangyang’s anger, “it’s nearly over just wai-”

“Pause it” he responds, cutting you off. That’s when you realise something is wrong. You pause the game, sending an empathetic look in Shotaro’s direction, who smiles back softly in response.

Yangyang grabs your hand harshly. “My room” he mutters.

You walk with him to his room, wanting to ask what’s wrong but also not wanting to anger him more than he already is.

Yangyang get’s straight to the point as soon as you enter the room, locking the door. “Across my lap, now. Count” he states coldly as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

You look at him hesitantly before complying, bending over on his lap. Yangyang lifts up your skirt, running a hand across your ass before slapping it harshly, resulting in a scream being released from your lips.

“One”

“What made you think you could act like a little slut in front of my face, huh?” he questions, slapping the tender area again.

“Two. Babe i don’t know what you’re talking about” you reply, genuinely baffled as to what you did to annoy your boyfriend.

“Fucking bullshit” he spits, slapping you hard again.

“Three”

“You know exactly what i’m talking about, don’t act like a dumb little slut. Flirting with Shotaro right in front of my face? Do i not deserve better than that?”

“Four. I wasn’t f-flirting with him. Fuck five. Baby you know i only care about you, no one else. Fucking hell six”

“Pity you decided to act like a fucking whore then” he complains.

“Seven. Babe please stop, i wasn’t flirting with Shota- fuck eight” you scream, your tender ass feels like fire from the red hand marks littered all over it.

“Just shut up, you’re boring me now slut”

“N-nine”

“Prove it to me that you’re sorry” he states, sending one last hard slap to your ass.

“Ten” you groan, as Yangyang drags you up by your hair.

“Lay down” he demands, staring you dead in the eye as you comply.

Yangyang pulls your panties down, not even bothering to take off your skirt or shirt, just simply pushing it up, allowing him to have access to your dripping core.

“Look at you, dripping for me already. Or is it for Shotaro?”

“You” you reply, eyes wide, “only you”.

“Good” Yangyang responds, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants and boxers, stroking himself lazily. “Open” he says, staring at your legs.

You look at him nervously, “Babe you didn’t prepare me at all”.

Yangyang leans down whispering in your ear, “Dirty sluts like you don’t need to be prepared. You can take my dick”.

He leans back, once again stroking his dick as you open your legs. He lines himself up with your soaking core before pounding into you with no warning.

“Fuck babe” you scream, putting your hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your lewd noises.

Yangyang grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Let them hear you. Let Shotaro know who you belong to” Yangyang groans, snapping in and out of you at a ruthless pace, loud moans effortlessly escaping your lips.

“Such a dirty slut” Yangyang groans, throwing his head back.

“Holy fuck babe” you scream, as he hits your g spot repetitively.

“Mmh my good little slut” he groans, releasing your wrists from his grasp and wrapping a hand around your throat. “You’re gonna take all my cum so good yeah?Let me fill you up like no one else can” he breathily says, tightening his grip on your neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fill me up please let me take all your cum” you choke out, eyes rolling to the back of your head, causing Yangyang to twitch inside of you. He’s close.

Yangyang brings his hand to your throbbing clit, rubbing it as fast as he can, causing your whole body to shake.

“F-fuck baby” you moan loudly, your fingers scraping up and down your boyfriends back, “please leave me cum babe, need to cum”.

“Cum for me” he moans, as you both come undone together, the room being filled with heavy breaths and euphoric moans. Yangyang slows down his pace significantly, allowing you both come down from your highs.

“Good girl” he whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, before lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom to clean you both up.

Once you are both decent again, you make your way hand in hand back to the living room, being greeted by a very shell shocked ‘00 line. There was no doubt, you let them hear.

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stainedglassthreads · 2 years

Note

How terrifying it would be if assuming Toriel is a party member and be focus of next weird route is manipulating her with gaslighting her to love Asgore again and forced her to be with him again as like seemingly typical picturesque husband and wife together?

First, I'd like to preface this by saying the Weird Route is kinda, as the name implies, weird. It doesn't really change all that much in the grand scheme of the story. Snowgrave still follows all the major beats of Pacifist, just removing several scenes and fights, and no one outside Noelle really acknowledges what happens-- and even she thinks it's a dream at first. So I don't know if a Weird Route really would force Toriel and Asgore together, as that feels like it'd be something that that people in Hometown may notice and remark upon. It's mostly a concept that I presently think would be REALLY fun to explore and consider, and one I think fits the ways the Weird Route is disturbing, without making it repetitive and wearing off the shock and horror. I also think that this kind of Weird Route would probably take place mostly in the Light World, further setting it apart from Snowgrave.

Also to be clear, this is my further thoughts on a post I reblogged from @honeybouquets

That said, without further ado...

Oh, it'd be pretty terrifying, and it'd also be pretty disturbing in a way similar to the Snowgrave route-- albeit in a very different way. I think it'd be pretty interesting to explore in Deltarune specifically, too.

Deltarune is already a 'typical picturesque small town' that seems off to the majority of the fanbase. Things seem happy initially, it seems like everything the Undertale fanbase has been dreaming of for years. Monsters are on the surface! No more war! Everyone is alive! ASRIEL is alive, and was never Flowey!

But then people began seeing things in the town that brought on senses that something is... off. Now, honestly, most of these things aren't all that insidious, they're basically just the results of a different world where things played out differently, or tragic but mundane things that just tend to happen in life. Despite being populated by monsters, Hometown is INCREDIBLY mundane, to contrast the excitement and adventure of the Dark World, but also likely to contrast the fantastical nature of Undertale.

Hometown is unnerving because it gives those who played Undertale everything they think they wanted for the characters... and the characters still aren't living perfect lives. Which is realistic, but also disappointing, when coming from a game like Undertale where you can fix everyone's problems if you're just kind enough.

Sometimes, people just fall out of love, like Asgore and Toriel. Sometimes, parents fall ill or don't make you feel safe and loved, like Rudy and his wife. Sometimes people die and there is no miracle cure, like the Amalgamates and Gerson. Sometimes a trans person doesn't have the resources, money, or support to safely transition and it leads to dysphoria and depression, like Mettaton.

I think that a weird route like this would continue along the lines of, giving the players what they THINK they want, and then showing how it still wouldn't be a very good thing. I'm of the opinion that Asgore deserves happiness, but his clinging onto the past isn't very good for him, and Toriel shouldn't be responsible for giving him happiness, as she's also got things to heal from. Intentionally or no, Asgore has hurt her, and she wants space. It's good for them to forgive and move on, and for her to let go of her grudge, but not try to regain what they had, because that's gone for good. A lot of Post-Pacifist Asgoriel AUs that I've seen, I feel like they kinda... brush over all the troubles those two have had and skip straight to happy fluff. Which is fine, I'm sure a lot of the shippers just want to see two characters they love happy. But seeing Toriel's desire to have her space not really addressed rubs me the wrong way, being someone who has no interest in a relationship, albeit for different reasons.

But taking that scenario that people want, making them 'kiss and make up' so to speak, because SURELY it would make them happy... as a horror and angst fan, it's a weird route I'd find really interesting, exploring how fucked up it is to do this to Toriel, the one who wants this divorce the most, and telling her 'no, it's okay, Asgore is a really good guy, he's so sweet and you're making him miserable', and show a realistic outcome. No matter how 'cute' you think a couple may be, if they're not happy together then just loving each other enough won't solve their problems. Life is complicated.

It might also be interesting in that it may, to an extent, also gaslight Kris themself while we use them to manipulate Toriel. Kris pretty clearly doesn't want to use Noelle as a weapon, but this isn't the same. This isn't turning Toriel into a killing machine. We don't know Kris' full opinions on the divorce, but even without the Player as a factor, being a kid whose parents are divorced is probably a situation that would make them feel really helpless, especially knowing they don't like thinking about whatever got Asgore kicked off the police, and what poor conditions he's living in now.

Perhaps in this route, if Kris is more on guard after what happened to Noelle, we'll be able to get around that by appealing to their desire for a happy family, or by helping Asgore out of his bad situation, or by making a more appealing situation for Asriel to come home to. Slowly corrupting Kris, not through killing but through tempting them with the happy life they want, and all they have to give up is their freedom, could be a really interesting foil to what we do to Chara in the No Mercy run, or a much darker take on us guiding Frisk in the Pacifist run.

All that said... I do think it possible some future chapters in Deltarune, including chapter 3, COULD involve more plot-stuff happening in the Light World. Alphys mentions no school, meaning possibly heading into the Dark World earlier in the day, wrapping that up, and spending more time in the Light World, and Susie mentions the upcoming festival, which could be a big deal.

#deltarune #deltarune theory #gaslighting tw #manipulation tw #toriel #asgore #asgore dreemurr #kris #kris dreemurr #weird route #speculations

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ateezinmymind · 4 years

Text

Pinning them to the ground

Ateez x reader

Fluff, suggestive, humor

A/N: I started this earlier instead of doing schoolwork,, I was bored ok😆

Hongjoong:

your wrestling match began when you called him a ‘tiny baby’

*dramatic gasp* “HEYYYY! I’m pretty tall”

pretending to sulk, he bursts into a sprint towards you

screams coming out of you. You’re only option was to run away..

Wearing socks and coming around corners don’t go well, so *pLOP* you’re on your butt.

hearing hongjoongs giggles erupting into his aggressive cute ‘AHH HA ha HA’ (a/n: uwu omg I can hear him) then the thud of him dropping to the floor

Turning you pout,, “DONT LAUGH MEANIE”

Only to start the argument of “you called me TINY”, “because YOU are”, “my butt hurts” etc

Getting up off the floor you scramble towards joong while he’s still bent down

Knocking both yourselves down on the hardwood, sliding around you try to keep the upper hand

Grabbing both his hands you pin them above his head and straddle his waist

“I won.BOOM”

“Y/n” hongjoongs groans out

Thinking you hurt him, you lift your body up

He gives you a taunting “AhahaAha SUCKER”

Slipping away from you, hongjoong runs towards your bedroom

“HEY NOT FAIRRR!!” running back for revenge with the biggest smile

Seonghwa:

you were sitting on the couch playing on your phone when you heard the vacuum start

signaling it’s ‘time to clean up’

Getting grumpy from the thought of tidying up, you make your way to the kitchen.

Seeing that there was no mess, you knew hwa was gonna annoy you about that fact you didn’t help

Not wanting the possibility of that outcome to happen you sped walked towards the cleaning man

Having his back towards you, you sneak behind him and tap his right shoulder

Moving to the left while he turns his gazed to the right

Taking the vacuum from his grasp you start giggling

Seeing you tricked him you say “HAH gotcha.” and continue to clean

Seonghwa goes :O

“Oh finally, it’s about time you helped y/n”

You could just hear the smirk forming on his face

Hwa coming up to you, flipping you over his shoulder

You squeal “YAA put me down!-“and start to spank his butt repetitively

Quickly getting placed back on the floor, he begins to wrestle you, “Hah I gotchu now”

Feeling playful you link both your legs behind his back and squeeze his waist

Letting out a groan of pain, Seonghwa’s grip on your arms loosens and you take control

Flipping your bodies over, you now on top. Seonghwa bites his lip

“I like this new y/n-“

Realizing the position you’re in and feeling hwa under you, you begin to tense up

Once again he takes control, but this time in something he prefers more...(a/n:you. Under him. Sexy time)

Yunho:

You both were having a Harry Potter movie marathon (a/n: as one does when they’re with this teddy bear)

When The Prisoner of Azkaban started it’s ending credits, it was time for snack refills and restroom breaks

So when you were in charge of popping more popcorn and such, Yunho went to the bathroom

*POp pp OP POpP pOp* waiting until the snack was done cooking you went to put the next movie in

Hearing footsteps down the hallway you jumped when Yunho yelled

“WiNGardiUm LEVioSA!!”

Letting out a small squeak, you charge for him

running and diving between is long ass legs you let out a series of laugher

Yunho traps you between his knees slightly blushing from the close proximity of your body to his

*BEEEEP BEEEP BEEEEEEP*

Releasing you, he turns to go grab the popcorn and other snacks

But when you see an opportunity to attack you go for it..something you do often-is attack. With kisses, hugs or even tickles

This time you came up behind him with a different tactic,,you holler “EXPelliARMUS!!”

Hanging onto his broad shoulders you bite his neck, pulling him down to the floor-laughing

“Y/n-ahhh!!” Yunho squeals out

From being on the floor you two quickly start fighting to pin each other down

Struggling you think of ways you can get the advantage..then ‘bing’ idea

Stopping your movements, locking eyes with Yunho you began to lean in.

Him being swooned for you, closes his eyes-as your lips moved against each other

Then BAM you now on top of him, cup his face and declare yourself the winner

“Fine princess,, but let’s see who will be the first to fall asleep”

“Bet?-“ ... “BET”

(a/n: I want to have a Yunho)

Yeosang:

having chicken for dinner definitely had its pros but,, also it’s cons

Fighting for the last piece of food ALWAYS led to a petty argument, no matter what you said or did. Yeosang. never. lost.

(a/n: all hail the chicken master)

On the couch, chicken being eaten, watching your show together. You thought he would be distracted enough for him to not realize you took the chicken

“How could you,,”

Turning your head to the male, you’re met with the coldest glare

“Trying to take MY last piece of chicken? Babygirl I don’t think so..”

Choking on the food in your mouth from hearing the nickname,, he lightly chuckles

*cue flustered mess*

“Well..why don’t we fight for it?” — “y/n let’s be honest here, you never win..”

Rolling your eyes you put the chicken down and wipe your hands clean

“No idiot, FIGHT. For. It.” Yeosang wipes his mouth and sits up

“If you want it that way,, the-“ taking him from the waist, he grabs onto your belt loops to keep from falling

Pinching, squeezing and pushing was involved until you actually managed to make him fall to the ground.

*lowkey mad, but the love is always there*

Pinning him down he congratulates you

“Well Done Y/n. I’ll give you the crown for this round” *easily gets out of your hold*

“But only because you’re so cute and helpless”

Speechless. You contemplate who really won this game.

San:

“Y/nnnnnn... I’m BOReDdd..”

Looking down at the handsom boy, you give him a sweet smile.

“Want to play a game then?”

Eyes sparkling, San gets up from his lying state to face you straight on

“Depends on the game..”-“what do you have in mind y/n?”

Telling him to close his eyes for 30 seconds. You quickly get up and head to your bedroom

Trying to find a hiding place, you hear San count “28..29..30..”

Frantically looking around your bedroom you quickly place yourself behind the door

Seeing his shadow enter the room, you jump in front of him

“YAAAAHHHHHH!!!—“ San dropping to the floor out of shock you start giggling

“Scaredy-cat sannie”

Getting on top of his limp state, you take the advantage to pin him down

“MmHmmmM” you hear him hum

“Looks like you won, love,,” “How shall we celebrate?”

Placing your hands on his chest and putting your weight on his lower half, you give him an innocent look of your flushed face

(A/n: wow y/n is slut for sannie)

Leaning towards the side of his head you whisper in his ear and softly bite the lobe

“Anything..everything, just as long as it involves you..”

You know sexy time. Bc he’s a FLIRT

Mingi:

He challenged you to a leg wrestling match, just because he wanted to see how cute and tiny you are

“No fairrr MINGII,, you have those perfect thighs, I’m no match. Go get Wooyoung”

(A/n: I’m all here for Mingi thighs 😌)

“But I challenged you,,” *cue pouting minki*

“Well I don’t take your challenge...INSTEAD, I challenged YOU!”

Hysterically laughing Mingi gives you that beautiful huge grin

Walking up to him you dramatically say “I challenge you. Song. Mingi. To just, JUST. A quick wrestling match-“

“Where whoever pins the other person down, wins. AND gets bragging rights”

Proud of your offer, you see Mingi standing dramatically. (a/n: you know that ‘hello Mingi from ateez and hello Jennie from blackpink’ meme//where the hand is on the hip?? lol)

It was settled. Y/n vs Mingi in a match to win bragging rights.

Starting on opposite ends of the living room, you sprint his way, over the couch taking a pillow with you

*turns into a mini pillow fight*

Laughter and sounds of whacking were the only things coming out of your fight.

Mingi falling down to the ground due to his aggressive laughter,, you quickly jump onto his stomach

“HAHAHA LOSER” declaring yourself the winner you immediately get up and run to the ateez dorm

“GUEES WHO JUST LOST A WRESTLING MATCH!!!”

Get prepared to hear Mingi screams as he runs after you

Wooyoung:

It started out as a bet

“Oh please,, obviously I would beat you y/n—the possibility of you magically obtaining strength out of the picture. I bet you’ll never be able to pin me”

Confident boy

But oh wait.. y/n!! You live to annoy your s/o

“Sounds like you’re scared Woo..Why don’t we put this bet to the test?”

Snorting out of amusement

He gestures you to come at him with two fingers

“Come at me y/n”

Then once you make your moves on him, he has to tease you.. DUH

“I know you just can’t keep your hands off me love”

Smacking is thigh you stick your tongue out and taunt him to you

Taking steps away from him, it’s then your turn to gesture him forward

“ReADDYY.... FIGHT!”

Screaming at each other you beginning biting.

After the series of pain and humor you were about to give up when wooyoung got a cramp in his calf

“AahhHhh OUCHYYY OWW OW”

Finding his discomfort hilarious, you laugh your way on top of him

“What were you saying about that bet again? That I’d never be able to pin you?”

You kiss his cheek and get off him

Massaging his leg he starts,

“That’s cheap y/n,, taking advantage of a person in need of healing”

Gives you the biggest frown

Jongho:

(A/n: OMGGG CUTEST BABY EVER🥺my heart)

With Jongho it was just a simple, yet sly trick you pulled

Giving snuggles, you made your way on top of him

“You know how you’re the strongest member love?”

A quiet yet relaxed ‘yes’ coming from the boy

You hug his chest and situate yourself over his body

Thinking of what to say, you hum

“Why do you bring that up so randomly?”

The little giggles coming from your mouth, are contagious as Jongho starts giggling as well

“Looks like I’m the strongest now..”

Grabbing Jong’s hands you pin them above his head and smile

Looking at your self place above him, Jongho spreads his arms out. So you’re now getting lower to his face

Licking your neck, he uses your weakened demeanor as an advantage

Flipping the two of you over he gives you his cutest gummy smile

“You seriously are so cute. stop. It”

The boy is in love with you

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beewolfwrites · 3 years

Text

An Iron Box - The Black Envelope

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @hiqhkey @serenzippity

Finally got an update for you all! It only took about a week :’) Hopefully this wasn’t too boring a chapter, but there’s Kuina content, so does that make up for it?

I will also update the master post too, I promise!

Here’s the AO3 Link.

Thanks for reading <3

----------------------------------------------------

The black envelope was nothing more than a pointless ritual created by Hatter to fuel his paranoia. But it was almost incredible seeing how many of the executives and militants still obeyed it. Niragi had suggested opening it right then and there, only Aguni refused and decided to leave it until the next day - an unusual choice for someone who should’ve been desperate to become number-one as quickly as possible.

Perhaps there was more between him and Hatter than he let on.

I’d invited the others to join me in my room to go over the plan, and as expected, Kuina was the first to arrive. From the moment she closed the door behind her and jumped onto my bed, it became apparent she still hadn’t let go of our conversation this morning.

‘You,’ she said pointedly. ‘Did you really think I’d have nothing to say about what you told me earlier?’

I sank into a chair by the window. ‘What I told you isn’t any of your business.’

‘Uh-uh. That’s bull and you know it. She’s our friend…well, she’s my friend, god only knows what she is to you. If you’re going to hurt her it’s absolutely my business.’

Hurt her? That simply wasn’t possible. If anything, nothing would ever change beyond what it is now, and the one who gets hurt wouldn’t be her. The thought made me smile.

‘I have no intention of it.’

Kuina drummed her fingers on her knee. ‘Why do I not believe you?’

‘I don’t care about romance,’ I replied. ‘And what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.’

At this, Kuina’s fingers stilled. ‘You mean, you’re not going to tell her?’

‘Of course not.’

‘You can’t do that, Chishiya,’ she said. ‘You just can’t.’

‘And why not?’

She slapped her hand on the bed. ‘Because that is hurting her.’

That’s ridiculous. Telling her would only push her further away.

Before I could respond, the door cracked open. We had a guest. Arisu shyly stepped inside, Usagi and (name) shuffling in behind him.

‘Just in time.’ I gestured towards the chairs and the couch. Arisu and Usagi took two of the chairs, while (name) seated herself on the end of couch closest to my seat. ‘Kuina, make sure the door’s shut properly.’

‘It’s shut.’

Her voice was clipped, and the way she was pouting was simply childish. She could try and make a point all she wanted. What I had confessed to her would stay a secret, whether she liked it or not. I reached into the drawer of a side-table and pulled out the walkie talkies I had collected weeks ago.

‘I’m sure you’ve already guessed this, but Hatter didn’t come back from his last game.’ The statement was meant for Kuina, Usagi and (name), as Arisu had already witnessed the body, however nobody seemed shocked by the news. ‘The militants are saying that he was shot in his game, but his body was actually discovered floating in the river by one of the supply runners.’

‘Wait,’ Usagi cut in. ‘How do you know about his body?’

I could’ve done without her skepticism, but she was the key to Arisu’s cooperation. ‘The supply runner told An in secret after our meeting, and I just happened to be nearby. Either way, Hatter was ambushed and shot, and Aguni is now the Beach’s new leader.’

The room fell silent, until Arisu whispered, ‘It’s just like you predicted.’ He ran his fingers along his mouth, rocking gently in his seat. ‘This plan of yours, you’re thinking of doing it tonight, right?’

‘Tomorrow,’ I corrected him.

I passed the walkie talkies around one by one, savouring the warm brush of skin as I placed (name’s) in her palm. I could tell from the way she leaned in that she was struggling to keep up with the conversation, and though it was her own fault for not trying hard enough to study Japanese, I still found myself slowing down while talking.

‘The playing cards,’ I explained, ‘they’re kept in a safe hidden somewhere in the royal suite. Nobody knows the passcode except the current number-one. But because there’s always chance that the number-one could die in a game, the code is also kept in a black envelope. The black envelope is only opened when there’s a new number-one.’

Even if we used Arisu to find the location of the safe, we wouldn’t know whether the code was correct or not until the moment itself. I had a few theories about what the code was, but it all depended on Aguni’s reaction during the ceremony.

‘There’ll be a meeting tomorrow,’ I clarified, ‘and Aguni will open it in front of all the executives.’

‘It’s only read by the number-one, right?’ (name) asked.

‘That’s right. But as for the safe itself, Arisu will be the one to infiltrate the royal suite.’

Arisu sat forward, resting an elbow on his knees. ‘What about the passcode?’

Seeing how invested he was, I smiled. ‘I already have an idea about that. I’ll tell you when you’re in front of the safe.’

‘You really are cautious.’ His face twisted into a knowing grin - a little ironic, considering the circumstances. ‘Got it!’

And now for the others.

I glanced between the three of them, only (name) flinched and immediately lowered her head like an embarrassed teenager. The movement caught me by surprise, however I paid it no mind.

‘You three will be on the lookout.’

Usagi rolled the walkie talkie in her palm and hissed, ‘It’s too dangerous. If we’re found out, we’ll be killed.’

I would’ve said something more, but there was no need. Arisu, the ever-loyal puppy, jumped straight in to defend the plan he knew almost nothing about.

‘It’s fine Usagi,’ he said, echoing the same words I’d spoken during our rooftop conversation. ‘With Hatter dead, there’s no unity at the Beach. This is the only way.’

You only believe that because I told you it was the only way. You really are this gullible.

Knowing I had Arisu convinced was enough for me. Usagi would never be completely swayed, but that’s just who she was. She was far too loyal to Arisu to abandon him and the plan now. And besides, the militants would deal with her later.

I broke down everyone’s positions; me watching over the executives during Aguni’s speech, Arisu waiting at the end of the hall before heading inside the royal suite, Usagi standing guard outside, and the other two outside the elevator to the top floor.

It was straightforward enough, and if any of them were suspicious they didn’t show it. At this point, everyone was so desperate to abandon the Beach, they would try anything. Arisu and Usagi eventually left, whispering between themselves.

I waited for the Kuina and (name) to join them, except neither made a move. Kuina was combing through her braids and messing up my bed without a care in the world. The latter looked even more nervous than before, as though she had a question she was too embarrassed to ask. Some of the details had likely gotten lost in translation, and part of me enjoyed being able to control how much she understood. Another part hated how reliant she was.

‘Why don’t I go in the royal suite instead?’

A cold tension washed over me, as if the empty void I was so familiar with had suddenly dropped open. That wasn’t what I had expected at all. Kuina’s hand slipped out of her braids, her mouth parting.

‘No,’ I said firmly.

‘How come?’ She shifted forward in protest, ‘I want to help.’

‘If you want to help, you’ll keep out of the way while Arisu finds the safe.’

‘Chishiya.’ Kuina’s stern look reminded me of our earlier exchange. Her language skills may have been less practised than mine, but she was vaguely following along, at least enough to criticise me.

‘But what if I go in there with him?’ (name) suggested. ‘Two people searching are faster than one.’

Was this because I told her and Kuina to stay together? Silly girl. For someone usually so sharp, she was truly incapable of reading between the lines.

‘If the executives start heading back,’ I pointed out, ‘you won’t be able to understand the others quickly enough.’ It was the best excuse I could come up with. If only she would take it and be quiet.

Kuina slid off the bed and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s better this way, believe me. It’ll look more natural if you and I are together instead of just waiting around on our own. We can pretend we’re talking.’

(Name) pulled a face at how things had panned out. If she chose to go behind our backs and swap positions with Arisu there was little I could do to stop her, except perhaps cancelling the plan entirely. However that would raise more questions than it answered, and there wouldn’t be another chance like this.

Leaving no room for debate, I tried to explain to her that Arisu would be better for the job, but with Kuina’s gentle insistence, she gave up pestering me about it and finally accepted her place in the plan.

‘Fine, fine.’ She raised her hands in mock surrender and stood up wearily. ‘You guys win. I just… I don’t know. I’m kind of tired. I’ll see you both tomorrow, okay?’

Hearing those words did little to relieve the unease I was feeling. Kuina’s smile was too fake, and once the door had closed and (name) was out of earshot, I reminded her, ‘You shouldn’t make it too obvious. If she knows about Arisu, she’ll get in the way.’

She slid into the chair where Arisu had been sitting, and rubbed her fingers against her temple. ‘This is a nightmare.’

A funny choice of words.

‘We’re in a parallel world playing games to survive,’ I said. ‘This isn’t as easy as a nightmare.’

‘It’d be easier if you told her the truth.’

Kuina’s obsession was starting to get repetitive, and I was already bored of it. I got to my feet and pulled my hood over my head. The movement seemed to catch her attention, her head snapping up as I walked towards the door.

‘Hey,’ she called, ‘where are you going?’

Fishing my headphones out of my pockets, I considered dropping by a certain room, but after remembering the way she recoiled when I looked at her, I decided better of it. ‘Somewhere where I can get some quiet. Tomorrow, you should go to her room before we start. There’s a chance she could offer to trade places with him.’

Kuina started to object, but I didn’t care enough to listen. Her voice silenced as the door closed behind me. In times like this, when my head was crowded and the hollowness was clawing at my mind, all I craved was the silence of the roof.

----------------------------------------------

As the story went, Hatter had died purely in his game, despite how his body had never been cleaned up, nor the way it had been dumped without a care in the river. And now, the numbers had been re-shuffled, making Aguni the new number-one. At least, that’s what they intended to tell the residents. However, Aguni wasn’t officially number-one until he opened the black envelope.

One by one, the executives all filed into the meeting room, Niragi lazily stretched out in the seat across from me, and Last Boss leaning against the wall. The former number-two, Kuzuryu, was calm as usual, resting his laced fingers in front of him. He shared a look with Mira who only grinned in return, a little too interested in the ceremony.

My focus, however, was on the man at the head of the table.

From the corner of my eye, Aguni drew the envelope closer and pried open the bright red seal. Then he paused.

Well, isn’t this interesting?

There was a slight delay where his expression froze, taken aback by the paper before him. His brows drew together, then all at once, as if it had never happened, he folded up the sheet and slid it into the envelope once more.

Aguni wasn’t a man caught off guard so easily. Whatever he’d seen on the paper was the opposite of what he’d expected. Either the code was more complex than just a set of numbers, or the page contained something different entirely. It was when Aguni took Hatter’s ring and stamped it across the hot wax seal that everything suddenly clicked.

The wax hardened, leaving behind a mirrored embossing of the word “BOSS”. A mirrored embossing that resembled a set of numbers.

Hatter really was a paranoid man.

The passcode was 8022.

#alice in borderland #Imawa no Kuni no Arisu #aib #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #Chishiya x reader #chishiya x oc #chishiya alice in Borderland

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ars0nistalex · 3 years

Text

Puzzles

a Meronia Oneshot

A/N: i got the idea for this story from @user-null!

Notice: this contains a few mentions of NSFW things but nothing graphic at all. also, caps lock warning; it does go into caps lock a few times but very occasionally

Outside, it rained.

Mello scoffed. He was standing by the window of his room, looking out at the grey world outside the orphanage. He really wanted to go outside today, unlike most days, but he knew Roger probably wouldn’t let him go out in that weather.

“Fuck you!” Mello yelled at the window, half-expecting a golden ray of sunshine to slice through the clouds and free the outside from the ties of the rain. But nothing happened, so he just scoffed again and stepped away from the window, giving up on whatever sorcery he was trying to pull. As he stepped towards the door of his room, he glanced into the mirror that was leaning up against the wall by the door. Just a few months ago, he would have been short enough to be able to look into the mirror and see his full body. But now, he stood several inches above it, only able to see his outfit when he looked into his reflection. He wasn’t wearing anything special today; just soft black pants and a grey sweater. He didn’t bother getting dressed into anything else; he knew he wouldn’t be able to go outside, anyway. He crouched and stared into the mirror at himself for another minute. He looked at the gold locks of his straight hair that reached to the point just above his shoulders; admired his lithe form and his 170-centimeter height; stared expressionlessly into his own sapphire eyes. To be honest, he thought he looked pretty damn good. But something was missing... his thoughts drifted to a certain 5’0” albino boy, the object of his affections, but he shook his head quickly, trying his best to just clear his head. He sighed, stood up, pulled his hood over his head and left the room.

As he left his room and stepped through the halls of Wammy’s House, his thoughts drifted away again as he walked the familiar path to Matt’s room. He thought of Near, the particular manner in which he carried out his daily activities, the snow-white color of his hair and the deep grey hue of his eyes, the specific way that he sat... almost everything about the boy was so angelic. Mello sighed deeply. He’d had feelings for Near for as long as he could remember, but had always tried so hard to suppress them and act like they didn’t exist. He had to compete against Near, anyway. The attraction would just get in the way if he wanted to get to the top. With that thought, Mello wondered what Near thought of him; he wondered if Near had the same feelings. The chances of that were low; they were always competing. And even with the small possibility that the younger one did like Mello back, this would just make the blond want to make it to the top even more. Not for hateful reasons, but he just really liked the thought of being above Near and dominating him...

The blond felt his whole face flush and shook his head quickly. He couldn’t think about that kind of stuff, not right now. He was about to go see Matt, and he knew that his friend wouldn’t like it if he walked in acting horny. Even though Matt would never shut up when it came to sexual jokes, the redhead never seemed comfortable with genuine sexual comments. It confused Mello, but he never commented on it. None of my business, he thought to himself as he reached Matt’s room, opening the door without even knocking.

“What?” Matt asked, not looking up from his gaming console. He was holding the device in both of his hands and laying in bed with all his blankets wrapped around his slim body.

“I’m bored!” Mello screeched, slamming the door behind him. He angrily stepped over to Matt’s bed, sitting down at the bottom and laying back. “Hang out with me.”

“I’m doing something.”

“I don’t care. I’m bored.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, then.”

“UGH!” Mello stood up and stomped towards the door. “I’ll just go hang out with someone else then!”

“K,” Matt said with a yawn. “I’ll tell you when I’m done with my games.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mello muttered as he slammed the door behind him.

Damn Matt! He thought to himself as he angrily stepped through the hallways again. I’ve never been more bored in my life! Why does he have to be binge gaming now?

The blond’s steps became heavier due to frustration. He had the urge to hit someone, which was the only way he was ever able to cope with his anger, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t good. And he didn’t want to get in trouble today. He was having a relatively decent day, despite the anger and boredom, and if he got in trouble, he would probably cry.

He really didn’t want to cry.

Mello suddenly realized that he had been subconsciously walking in the direction of Near’s room. He usually avoided the younger one’s room, but after thinking about it for some time, he realized that this presented a perfect opportunity to get a little bit closer to Near. He doubted that the boy was doing anything important. He was probably just playing with his toys or doing a puzzle or building some huge structure out of dominoes, as he was always doing. And anytime in the past that Near had ever asked Mello to play with him, the older of the two would shut him down and tell the “albino sheep” to go play by himself. Mello almost winced at the thought. For so long in the past, he had been so convinced that all he felt towards Near was hatred and jealousy. Only recently had he finally come to terms with himself and the feelings that he had ignored and denied for so many years. He wanted to at least try to make it up to Near, make up all of the awful words and things that he said and did in the past. He knew that it was basically impossible to make it all up, but maybe he could try to be a little nicer. That could help.

At this point, Mello was standing outside Near’s door. He exhaled deeply before lifting his hand and knocking on the door.

“Who is it?” Near’s soft voice emitted from inside the room.

“It’s me,” Mello replied. He knew that the other would be able to figure out who it was, just by the sound of his voice.

Near hummed softly. “Mello,” he greeted. “You can come in.”

“Near,” he reciprocated as he entered the room. His eyes landed on Near, who was sitting on the floor in his pajamas with a fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was sitting with one knee pulled to his chest and was quickly doing a puzzle that was on the floor in front of him. Mello couldn’t help but smile; the boy was so adorable.

“Did you need something, Mello?” Near asked quietly.

“No,” the blond in question said defensively, crossing his arms.

“Well clearly, if you wanted to enter my room, you must want something,” the younger of the two said, not lifting his eyes from the puzzle. He lifted his finger and began to repetitively curl a lock of hair around it. “So I’ll ask again: did you need something, Mello?”

Fuck! He got me! Mello thought to himself, gritting his teeth. He stepped over to Near and stood beside him. He didn’t exactly know how he was going to say this, but he had to say something. “D-do you wanna hang out?” He asked quickly, squeezing his eyes shut.

Near dropped the puzzle piece he was holding and glanced up at Mello, a surprised look on his face. He stared at him for a few seconds before looking back down at the puzzle. “Yes,” he replied. “That sounds good to me.”

Mello’s eyes opened widely, looking even more shocked than the other boy did. “O-okay, sweet,” he replied quickly, plopping down beside Near. He sat with his legs criss-crossed and one of his knees was brushing up against the younger one’s leg, but neither minded. “What’re you doing?”

That was a stupid question, Mello thought as soon as the words left his mouth. It’s obvious that he’s just sitting here doing a puzzle. What the hell am I thinking?

“I’m doing a puzzle,” Near replied simply as he put the last piece in its place. “I’m bored.”

Mello nodded, looking to the side slightly. “Just do something more entertaining then, I don’t know,” he muttered.

“I’m not the most entertaining person, Mello,” Near replied.

“Right,” the older one said with a yawn. “What do you wanna do, then?” He pulled a half-eaten chocolate bar from his pocket and peeled the wrapper back, quickly taking a large bite.

Near was silent for a minute, still twirling a lock of his hair around his finger. He then reached over to a drawer in a dresser beside him and pulled out a small box with a label that read, ‘1000-piece puzzle’. “I haven’t done this one yet,” the small boy explained quickly as he opened the box. He turned it upside down and poured all of the pieces onto the floor. “Would you like to help, Mello?”

“Sure, why not,” Mello replied, scooting a little closer to Near and leaning over to reach the puzzle pieces.

For the next few minutes or so, the two sat in silence and worked on the puzzle together. It wasn’t awkward silence, though; it was a comfortable silence. They were both enjoying themselves, and Mello noticed that he felt more relaxed and content than he had in a while. Maybe he should hang out with Near more often.

The blond stopped working on the puzzle for a minute, taking a second to just stare at Near in amazement. He’s beautiful. No, perfect. An angel, really. Mello thought to himself. There’s stardust and butterflies in his big gray eyes, his voice is soft like dandelions and honey. Even if I compared him to the brightest star in the night sky or the most beautiful diamonds in the world or all the colors in auroras, no words would be able to capture his beauty. A lot of people say they’d die for the object of their affections, but I’d live for Near. I want to be beside him through all of his battles and I want to repair the parts of him that others—that I—have foolishly and carelessly broken.

“Do you need something, Mello? You’re staring at me,” Near murmured. He looked up at Mello with his big and curious eyes. Mello smiled softly and couldn’t help but wonder what those porcelain lips would feel like to touch or kiss, or how perfectly those small and fragile hands would fit inside his.

“Nah, nothin’.” Mello leaned back against the bed, meeting eyes with Near for a minute. “I was just looking at you. Like you said.”

“I see,” the boy said. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Pffft, no,” Mello said with a giggle. He reached his hand over and cupped Near’s cheek. The smaller one’s face flushed deeply and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Mello?” he asked. It was all he could bring himself to say.

“You’re kinda pretty, y’know,” Mello stated, still looking into Near’s eyes. “I think we’re both kinda pretty.”

“Yes, I agree, however...” Near lifted his hand up slowly and grabbed onto Mello’s, that was still cupping his cheek. “...I don’t understand.”

Mello’s grin widened as a bright ray of golden sunlight sliced through the grey expanse of clouds in the sky outside. The light illuminated the room beautifully, making Near’s eyes glitter as they stared intently into Mello’s. The older boy softly and slowly wrapped an arm wound Near’s waist, pulling the small one to sit between his legs. The younger boy’s head leaned against Mello’s chest and the blond held his arm tightly around Near.

“Maybe you will someday.”

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